Arare [Kouri Ame]
by Djinn
Summary: [Slight shounen ai - Touma x Sakano] Quite short and written on whim. More character/description-driven. Sakano waits in a cafe for his shachou, anxious, melancholic, miserable, and unaware that things can only get worse.


One of the most regrettable things about the anime was the exclusion of most of Sakano's shows of adulation for his shachou so constantly present in the manga [That said, I thought the anime was really good.] To quote Noriko : "He's secretly in love with shachou." :D So while I do fancy KxSakano and HiroxSakano, it's the one-sided, unrequited ToumaxSakano [i.e. Sakano mooning hopelessly over his shachou] that I really adore. [Gee. My tastes do run rather obviously, huh.] 

This is the second ToumaxSakano vignette I've thought of that I've written/started writing [the first was a lemon, unfinished for…er…over a year now. ^.^;; But no one's waiting for it anyway, so it should be safe.] A few scattered images flashed into my mind a couple of days ago, and driven half-mad with disconsolation [brought mainly by school] and lack of time to do anything at all, I tried to make coherence out of them. . [An ironic and totally inappropriate way to deal with problems.] This is the result. Character and description driven, rather than plot, which had just been a vague outline when I'd started, so I'd say it sucks, even for a vignette. *sigh* I'm not sure at all what to think about this fic. I either hate it or like it, or hate it but like it all the same.

As a totally unrelated thought, I just saw my first flame five minutes ago. It was strangely hurtful, but also amusing and ironic. I'm not sure why flamers are always anonymous English flunkers, but it seems to be that way. So I'm a little hurt and a little amused and a little heckled over being called an ooc-writer [because, also ironically, I'm personally quite anal over overt ooc-ness in my fics, though occasionally _privately_ given to indulgent bouts.] :\ C'est la vie, I guess. *ambivalent* I just hope that flames don't come in packs.

Arare [Kouri Ame] 

by Djinn

            He sat in the café alone, staring miserably at the icecubes in the plain glass in front of him, frosted over by the presence of mere cold water within. He'd been staring at them for the past half-an hour, and they were still there. Noticeably smaller, but still there. It worried him. It seemed wrong. Everything about ice in water suggested that it would melt. Granted, the café was air-conditioned - strongly air-conditioned, he noted, shivering slightly as he shifted, his arms wrapped discreetly around himself - but that was no excuse for the ice not to melt.

            …It was no excuse for shachou not to show up after so long. He was the one who said he'd wanted to meet him, here, today. He was the one who said seven thirty, with that disarming, confident smile. He was the one who…was late by an hour and counting.

            It worried him.

            "Maa…" he sighed quietly, dropping his eyes from the ice to blink slowly, tiredly, "I hope shachou's alright."

            But he _would be alright. He always was. He knew that, as he knew everything else about his shachou. He was always alright._

            …Perhaps he just wasn't coming. Perhaps he'd just decided not to come. Perhaps Eiri-san [even though he knew it was silly. Eiri-san was in New York.], or Sakuma-san…or perhaps even K-san had stopped by the office, and he'd just decided not to come at all. Perhaps he'd even forgot. Perhaps he should just leave.

            But he wouldn't. He knew that too.

            He sighed deeper, sunk deeper into the cushioned chair. He would wait here for the rest of his life if he had to.

            It was half an hour more before an _incognito millionaire and mega-star strode into the café, sunglasses obscuring confident turquoise eyes, but not the disarming, confident smile. He felt his heart throb alarmingly, caught in his throat, as shachou slipped into the opposite seat easily, slipping off the dark glasses just as easily._

            "Konbanwa, Sakano-san. So sorry to have kept you waiting."

            No explanation, no alibi, no excuse. Just a 'so sorry'. It made no difference to him. He felt his doubt, his worry, his melancholy melt away like the icecubes should have, leaving behind only a coy nervousness, and a strange burbling happiness within him that his shachou hadn't forgot, hadn't not come.

"Iie! D-daijoubu! I'm just glad that shachou's alright."

And he was.

A throaty laugh. Amused turquoise. He bit his lip unconsciously, eyelids half-lowered on mesmerised hazel-dark eyes, drinking in every second of his kami-sama's presence.

"Have you eaten?"

"I…iie. I was…I was waiting for shachou."

"Silly thing," he laughed again, "you must have waited for an hour at least! You should have eaten first."

"N-no! I'm not hungry."

A smile this time. He gestured a waiter over with a gloved hand.

"What ever's good today. Two sets."

A quick nod, and the man was on his way. His shachou turned back to him, still with that dazzling smile.

"I hope I didn't disturb your plans for the night? I just needed to see you about something personal."

"No, no, I didn't have any plans. It's alright."

More than alright, he thought as he tried hard to mask the fact that he was staring, wide-eyed like a fangirl, at his shachou. This was the first time, he believed, that he'd seen his shachou across a café table. Against a concert hall wall, yes, in the office, behind the desk, yes, many times. Across a café table, no. Now yes.

It was nothing. It was little. It was precious. It was an image, a memory to savour, to yearn for, on lonely White Days. To sigh over while watching melodramatic romantic serials and movies. To cry over, hurt over, on forlorn, broken nights.

Shachou across a café table. That was a good one.

"I have a favour to ask of you."

Shachou was speaking now, the smile a little gentler.

The gentle smile matched his voice better. The usual smile matched his personality. He liked them both.

"Shindou-san is working very hard in Bad Luck right now, isn't he? I know he is."

"H-hai! Shindou-kun is very dedicated. All of Bad Luck are working very hard. The concert is coming soon."

"I know that. Yuki is in New York right now."

"Shindou-kun has informed me about Eiri-san's whereabouts, yes."

"Ah. Yuki is flying back tomorrow."

"Eh? Demo…Shindou-kun didn't…didn't -"

"I know he didn't. He doesn't know. I arranged it."

He blinked, twice, confused.

"I don't want him to know."

The smile was still gentle…but the steel behind it was so very cold.

Like ice.

"But just in case he does find out…I need you to do something for me. Is that alright, Sakano-san?"

He didn't - _couldn't - say anything. His shachou nodded as if he had._

"Don't let him leave the studio. I don't care how. Just keep him away from Yuki. I want to spend some time alone with Yuki. Quite a long time, actually. If all goes well…Shindou-san won't ever have to worry about him again."

His shachou slipped off a velvet glove, reached out a hand. Shakily, as if in a dream, he acquiesced. The feel of his shachou's hand was so good. So smooth, yet so firm. So strong.

"You _will do that for me, won't you? Sakano."_

Ever so deliberately, he lifted his hand to his lips and kissed it.

Time had slowed to a crawl for him. He felt like a bride, he felt like a schoolgirl on her first date, he felt as if his insides had been liquefied, he felt betrayed. Here he was, here, sitting on a cushioned chair of a posh little café he would never have come to alone. Here he was, and there was his shachou. And - there - shachou had done what he had only ever dared to - never even dared to - dream of. Kissed his hand - ridiculous! …So perfect. So good. He felt like a lady. He felt like a heartbroken fool.

There. The smile had turned predatory. There. The eyes had turned predatory - intense with what looked like lust, but he knew was really calculation. But still, it looked as if shachou wanted _him, looked as if it wasn't someone else he was thinking about constantly, cravingly. There - shachou was still holding his hand._

For a brief, piercing moment, he was transported back to that one brief, piercing time when his shachou had been kind - so kind! - and had so gently pressed his face against his shoulder and soothed him as he cried. That was good - that was great. That was what kept him going everyday through the fear and sick worry, the feel of his Armani silk, the warmth of his body, the heady smell of expensive cologne, and the knowledge that shachou - his shachou - might sometimes, just a little bit, care.

And he knew, he just knew, there, then, that this was the one. This was the image that would stay with him - burned into him - forever, this image of his shachou, holding his hand, staring directly at him, smiling at him. Not the moment of ecstasy against his shoulder, not the breathtaking thought of him across the café table. This. Where he could pretend - almost pretend - that…almost believe that…almost believe his shachou could want him. This image - deep eyes, deep smile, the feel of his hand, the feel of his lips, the romantic darkness of the café, the romantic aroma of good food and good wine, the romantic flicker of the tealight centerpiece. This image he would cry over, hurt over, kill himself over. This moment, he was completely, utterly, unspeakably in love.

He slowly lowered his eyes, lowered his head. He closed his eyes for a long instant, savouring the feel of his shachou's hand with a heartbreaking fondness.

Forever. This moment.

Then he stood swiftly, broke the grasp, turned, and fled. Without a word, he ran out of the café.

He stopped when he was out on the street, realisingly, dimly, belatedly, that it was raining - pouring, really - a steady, relentless deluge of heavy raindrops. He looked up into the sky, blindly, the rain a grey haze of wet. It was dark.

It was nothing. It did not matter.

He walked on now, blindly, through the people and traffic a grey haze of life. He could not hear the frantic peals of carhorns, could not feel the cruel pushes of irritated passerbys in his path. He did not care.

It was nothing. Nothing mattered.

The rain beat down, coating his glasses with raindrops. He could not see. It did not matter. It matted down his hair, slicked it against his face, his clothes - all wet - coursed down his pallid cheeks. Or it could have been his tears. It made no difference. It did not matter.

Raindrops and tears, they were all the same. Darkness and desire, all the same. Morality and idiocy, all the same. His shachou. Shindou-kun.

Not the same. But he'd given one up for the other, and it wasn't the one he wanted that he'd saved. Justice, fairness, goodness. Morality. Stupidity. Idiocy. Heartbreak. Grief. Sorrow. Pain.

It was all the same.

He didn't know where he was. He might well have forgotten who he was. But he kept on walking, through the rain, in the rain. And he could hear nothing but the endless, dire drum of raindrops on the pavement and the asphalt. And he could feel nothing but the wetness of rain against his body, and perhaps his tears, he couldn't tell. And he could see nothing but, forever, the image of his shachou, smiling, wanting, burned into his mind and memory. His fingers, limp at his side, closed feebly on a phantom hand. His heart gave a lurch, tried to stop beating, but failed. And as he walked on, hearing thus, feeling thus, seeing thus, it was hard to not think, hurting thus…

…it hurt to live.

The ice. It would not melt.

END

It turned out longer than I'd thought, which probably also means suckier than I thought. I really did like some of the description, but many things are just too awkward. .

Some footnotes [just in case ^.^;;] :

Shachou : Boss, more or less. The leader of the corporation. The term with which subordinates address the company director.

To quote Noriko… : The quote comes from one of the earliest volumes, but I'm not sure which. I've been vaguely following Gravitation for three or so years now, and it's all a bit muddled up. O.o

Arare [Kouri Ame] : Hail [Ice Rain] A ref to the ice and the rain, which were the two most important elements in the fic. 

'Maa…' : Technically, it means 'you might say', but I think it can also be used as an ejaculation.

'Konbanwa' : Good evening.

'Iie' : No

'Daijoubu' : It's alright.

…shachou had been kind… : Volume 3. *sighs dreamily*

And, um, that's really it I guess. Back to Lit test revision. . *wanders away forlornly. And ambivalently.*


End file.
